


pilgrim's hands

by faintlight



Series: look me in the eyes [4]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Established Relationship, F/F, Fisting, Hand Kink, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbians, Praise Kink, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Sexy Use of Eldritch Powers, The Beholding Fear Entity (The Magnus Archives), The Lonely Fear Entity (The Magnus Archives), Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Martin Blackwood, apparently, i am not entirely sure why i'm writing this, trans author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29395455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faintlight/pseuds/faintlight
Summary: A few days after they’d arrived at Daisy’s safehouse, Jon had started sleeping again.(trans nb lesbian au)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: look me in the eyes [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069037
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	pilgrim's hands

**Author's Note:**

> hi s5 is kicking my ass emotionally so here’s soft scottish honeymoon period lesbians <3
> 
> first bit is a tw for Lonely-induced depression and depersonalization
> 
> title is technically from romeo and juliet but i took it from the song of the same name from bare: a pop opera
> 
> usual gender explanation: i hc jon as a transmisogyny affected nb lesbian (they/them) and martin as a transmisogyny exempt transmasc lesbian (he/they)

A few days after they’d arrived at Daisy’s safehouse, Jon had started sleeping again. Which wouldn’t have been strange, except Martin knew they hadn’t slept in weeks before this. Or at least, he assumed they hadn’t. The past few months had been...difficult. Strange. Lonely. It was still hard for Martin to remember the exact series of events that had led the two of them here. 

Jon had almost died. Martin had sat beside their hospital bed for six months. And then Peter had asked Martin to become his assistant, and Martin really had nothing left to lose, and then everything had gotten cold and far away and he hadn’t left the Institute in recent memory. 

But then Jon had woken up, and come back to the Institute, and the warmth wanted so desperately to flood back into his body, and he wanted nothing more than to take Jon home and feed them and get them to rest and hold them for a very, very long time. But whenever Martin thought about talking to Jon, approaching them, even just picking up his phone to call them, Peter would materialize out of nowhere and press a firm hand to Martin’s shoulder, calmly reminding him that there was work to be done. 

And that warm feeling would slip out of Martin, and he would remember that it would be a lot easier to just go back to work and not think about how _hard_ it was to feel anything. Forget that he didn’t actually seem to sleep anymore, no matter how tired he was. The memory of Jon’s hands, their voice, their eyes, their words began to slip from Martin’s memory. He could remember feeling so strongly, loving Jon with such fervor he could barely contain it. But his feelings had drawn so deep inside him, his heart chilled so much that it wasn’t something he could understand anymore. Such a wealth of feeling couldn’t have come from him. He couldn’t feel that much. Maybe he never could have. 

But no, that wasn’t right either. Martin _knew_ he’d been able to feel that strongly in the past. He could remember bursting with joy the first time Jon had stayed over at his apartment. He remembered the pulsing anxiety leading up to the Unknowing, the apprehension and nights spent crying when Jon was away, always in danger. That was him, that was Martin who had felt all that. But it didn’t _feel_ like him in those memories. How could it, when he barely felt anything at all? 

It was easier to believe that he’d always been like this, never been able to feel much. Easier to adjust to his current situation, no matter how much he was terrified of what he was doing, what might happen. If he’d never felt much, he couldn’t be feeling this much fear. He was fine. 

It was fine seeing Jon in the corridor outside his office and looking away. It was fine leaving their calls unanswered. 

(It wasn’t, it cut Martin deep to their core to ignore the person they loved most in the world, it made everything in them cry out, screaming at himself to _stop_ , it wasn’t worth it, whatever he thought helping Peter would do, nothing was worth losing Jon.)

The thing was, Jon kept _trying_. They kept walking by Martin’s office when they knew he would be taking a break. They kept calling when they knew Martin had his phone nearby. They weren’t prying into his head, not really, just understanding enough to reach Martin a bit easier. The worst part was, it almost worked. Each contact made Martin wish he could just take Jon’s hand and leave with them. Wrench the both of them out of this terrible place and never come back. 

That wasn’t really a possibility anymore, though. With him like this and Jon leaning deeper into the Eye, it was hard to imagine a way to extricate them both unharmed, at least from Martin’s perspective. 

Jon seemed to have other plans. The deeper Martin was pulled into the Lonely, the harder Jon tried to pull him out. It was a tug-of-war with Martin at the center, and he couldn’t help Jon. it was impossible. 

When Peter asked Martin to sacrifice himself to save the world (or at least to keep it together long enough for Jon to save it), he couldn’t think of a reason to say no. The only thing left in his life worth anything was Jon, and he would do anything if it meant they lived another day. So he did as he was asked, and it was only when they went into the tunnels that he began to feel any misgivings. 

Peter was _sure_ , but Martin was _not sure _, even through the fog clouding his head. He felt as though he was speaking through glass. Out of the mist, Peter’s words rang in his head, and it all suddenly clicked into place for a second. The fog cleared, and Elias was there, and so was Jonah Magnus, and Martin made a choice, and it seemed like the right thing to do, and then the cresting wave crashed over him and he was alone on an endless beach.__

__It was days, maybe hours, but it felt like a year. Each moment sped by impossibly slowly, wave after wave drawing languidly onto the shore and rolling up just shy of Martin. The fog was thick there, and Martin could barely see twenty feet in front of him. It was fine, what was there to see anyway?_ _

__A shout rattled the airwaves on the beach. A voice, calling. Footsteps that could have been inches or miles away._ _

__“Martin! Martin!” Jon’s voice broke the silence, shattering the fog._ _

__“...Jon?” Martin had lifted his head for the first time in weeks, or minutes. “Jon?”_ _

__“Martin!” And Jon had been there, standing in front of him. It couldn’t have been _Jon_ , how could they be here?_ _

__But it must have really been them, because Peter appeared soon after and tried to stop them from leaving. And then Jon wrenched the life out of him through his eyes._ _

__And then they had told Martin they were taking him home._ _

__Martin remembered being packed into a car with several bags, being driven to somewhere far away from London, being unloaded with the rest of the luggage, and being led into a small cabin._ _

__The warmth _should_ have been there. It should have come back after Peter died. _ _

__But the cold lingered with him. It stuck to his skin and chilled his bones. Martin’s hands were always freezing._ _

__Jon blessedly understood why Martin was acting the way he was. They danced around him, sure, but they let their hand rest on Martin’s across the table, not moving it until Martin squeezed back. They would always be awake when Martin was, leaving a mug of tea on the counter whenever he stumbled out of sleep. Unless they were recording a statement, they didn’t let Martin spend more than ten minutes alone at once._ _

__And it helped. _God_ , it helped. Every touch came closer to feeling warm enough, every sip of tea felt like Jon was saying _I love you_ from the other room. Even sitting in their vicinity was enough to warm the cold inside Martin, just a little. Jon had changed in tandem, easing around Martin as Martin came back to himself. _ _

__And they had started sleeping again. Which might not have been a huge development, but Martin hadn’t anticipated the rush of feeling that came from waking up with Jon’s arms still wrapped around him, the way his heart skipped a beat when they pulled him closer, seeing their eyes slowly blink open. He had missed so much without even realizing it._ _

__It was these little bursts of tenderness, these reminders of the life they’d had before, these pieces of knowledge wrapped in love that broke through the last shroud of the Lonely still wrapped around Martin._ _

__(He didn’t want to think about why it was seeing and knowing that brought him back the quickest. As far as Martin was concerned, it was the dream-logic power of love, the Eye be damned.)_ _

__It was one evening, a week and half into their stay in the safehouse. Jon slipped their hand into Martin’s as they sat on the couch together._ _

__“You’re warm!” they said, squeezing Martin’s hand in punctuation._ _

__“Mm?” Martin said, looking up from the book he was attempting to read. “Oh!”_ _

__Jon took his other hand and pulled him close. They sat holding each other for a minute, Martin relishing in the human warmth and connection he could feel, finally. After so long without really experiencing emotions, the warmth between them was palpable. Martin felt the impulse to catalogue this feeling, this moment, to archive it in the back of his mind. Which was way too close to the pull of the Eye for his comfort. He’d much rather concentrate on how safe he felt, wrapped in a pure warmth that he hadn’t felt in months._ _

__After a long moment, Jon pulled back. “How are you feeling?”_ _

__“Better.” Martin smiled. “Much better. I can feel—I can _feel_!” He took a breath. “I love you. It’s been a while since I’ve said it, I know, and I can’t quite remember these past few months but I know I’ve been awful to you-”_ _

__“Martin,” Jon said, in that tone that meant Martin was being unnecessarily self-sacrificing. “You were taken by the Lonely. The last thing I was worried about was how you were treating me. I trusted that you knew what you were doing and could find your way out, and that there’d be a good reason for it all.”_ _

__“And you were right, as always,” Martin sighed, “and I’m glad you saved me, even if that involved- well- imploding Peter, and I’m so, so glad you stayed and took care of me when I could barely take care of myself.”_ _

__“Of course I stayed,” Jon said, their eyebrows furrowing. “Martin, I love you. I want to protect you and take care of you, no matter what. I won’t leave you, not if I can help it. I can’t promise much, with the world the way it is, but I can promise that I’ll stay with you.”_ _

__Martin hadn’t cried in months, and now it all seemed to come out at once. He might’ve been embarrassed about just how much he was crying, if Jon hadn’t just said the most romantic and affirming thing they’d ever heard. He’d never felt so vulnerable, so loved. Forget the potential nightmare outside, he’d never felt so _safe_. _ _

__“I-you mean the world to me,” he managed through his tears. Saying these things didn’t feel like a risk anymore, they felt like a foregone conclusion. Like Jon would always respond in kind. Martin felt so _warm_ , like the sun was bursting through him. It seemed to burn away all the fear in him. _ _

__Jon pulled him tighter. In a strange moment, Martin almost felt like he could hear what Jon was thinking. Maybe it was his ramped-up emotions, Jon’s intense vulnerability, or some residue of the Eye left on him, but he felt a thought pulse across his mind. _I love you_. It was a natural enough thought to come to his mind, sure, but it didn’t _feel_ like one of his thoughts. It felt like someone whispering into his ear, directly to his brain. _ _

__“Jon- I- I think I just saw what you were thinking,” Martin stammered, his voice tentative._ _

__“You did?” Jon’s face showed more curiosity than alarm. “Try and compel me, then.”_ _

__“Okay, what are you thinking?”_ _

__“I love you, and I’d be very interested if you’d developed some of the Eye’s powers.”_ _

__Martin paused. The air had buzzed slightly, and Jon’s words seemed to come more quickly than usual, but he was more concerned with this line of thinking. “Interested how?”_ _

__“It’d help you better protect yourself, I think, and since I started noticing how you seemed to be more resistant to the Eye’s powers, I wondered what you could do with them.” They took a breath. “To me. Specifically.”_ _

__“To y—oh.” Martin flushed, partly with the success of his question, partly with the idea that Jon would want _him_ to be the one in control. “You’d want me to- to do that?”_ _

__“I’d love if you did, but if you’re not comfortable with it-”_ _

__“No, no,” Martin laughed, silencing the static in the air. “It’s not that. I am definitely- I very much want to, I was just surprised that you’d want _me_ to. Uh. Dominate you.”_ _

__“It’s not something I feel all that often,” Jon said, “but when I do, I want it to be you.”_ _

__“That’s, um, really good to hear.” Martin let his gaze drift up to meet Jon’s. “Would you want to try it?”_ _

__“Now?” Jon asked. “You were just- you’ve been in the Lonely.”_ _

__“A bit, yeah,” Martin said. “But this helps. No time like the present, right?”_ _

__“If you’re sure,” Jon said._ _

__“I’m sure.” Martin pulled Jon into a kiss. They melted against him, and Martin couldn’t help noticing how _human_ they both felt (ignoring the fact that both halves of this relationship were now impossible tangled in the Eye). That train of thought was soon lost in the rush of feeling their bodies pressed together, Jon pushing forward to kneel over Martin. The warmth of their mouth against his neck made his eyes well up. Jon traced a line down his collarbone, pulling away when Martin gasped out a sound that was more sob than moan. _ _

__“ _Martin_ ,” they said, face softening. They knew by now that Martin crying during sex—especially post-Lonely—wasn’t something to be concerned about, just that he was having too many feelings to contain. They checked in with him every time anyway (which sometimes just made Martin cry more). _ _

__“I’m fine! It’s okay, I promise,” Martin said, wiping tears from his face. “Really. I’m just a bit nervous because we haven’t done this before. I mean, it’s different being on this end of it.”_ _

__Jon let out a short laugh. “All the things to be scared of, and this is what does it for you?”_ _

__“I can get used to worms. Personal intimacy is a much harder fear to confront.”_ _

__“Martin. No matter what you do, it will be very attractive to me, because it’s you, and I love you.”_ _

__Martin blushed. “Right. Let me on top of you, then.”_ _

__Jon laid back on the couch, Martin moving to lie between their thighs. This was one of Martin’s favorite views, the way Jon’s hair fanned around their head, eyes shining, clothes crumpled in disarray. Their hands cupped Martin’s face, pulling him forward. From here, Martin drank in the sight of their flushed cheeks, their slight smile, the collar of their shirt open just wide enough to show the corner of their collarbone. Martin kissed it gently, moving higher to bite softly at the base of their throat. They let out a harsh breath, and Martin smiled softly to himself. If he was going to do this, he would do it right, taking them apart piece by piece. He unbuttoned their shirt slowly, pressing a kiss to each new piece of exposed skin. All the buttons open, Martin pushed the shirt over their shoulders. Though it had hurt like hell not seeing them for months, it was a special kind of magic to see how they’d changed in the interim, and not just under the Eye’s influence._ _

__“God, Jon, you’re beautiful,” he sighed, leaning down to kiss them, long and deep. They sat up slightly to meet him, hands resting on Martin’s hips. He pulled away briefly, kissing a tender line down their neck. “No, really,” Martin managed in between kisses, “I’m so lucky to have you, to see you like this,” he pressed his mouth to Jon’s chest, lips closing around their nipple. “To be able to make you feel this way,” he moved to their other breast, “that you can be so vulnerable with me,” kissing their sternum, “that you trust me to do this. I love you.” He kissed their cheek._ _

__If it had been Martin on the receiving end of this, his face surely would have been covered in tears by now. With Jon, the suggestion of tears only welled in the corners of their eyes as they pulled Martin close. “I love you too.”_ _

__Martin leaned into the kiss, letting his hands wander. He slipped under the hem of their already-raised skirt, sliding along their thigh and enjoying the shiver he got in response._ _

__“God, Martin,” they whispered, voice barely escaping._ _

__“Mm? Is there something you want?” Martin let the unpracticed edge of compulsion leak into his voice. It was far from the deep, polished vibration of Jon’s version, but it would do as long as their guard was down._ _

__They shuddered again. “I- oh, this is- I want you to touch me, to- to fuck me. God, I want you.”_ _

__Martin ducked their head and bit softly at their collarbone so they couldn’t see the bright blush spreading across his face. “How do you want me? What did you think about, when you pictured this?”_ _

__The static seemed lower this time, the frequency _almost_ moving the air. He’d work on it. _ _

__“I want you inside of me. I can’t stop thinking about it.”_ _

__Martin _did_ moan at that, unexpected as it was. “You do?”_ _

__Jon nodded. “I know it’s not what you’re used to, but-”_ _

__“Give me one second.” Martin reluctantly climbed off of Jon and ducked into the next room. Never let it be said he wasn’t prepared._ _

__He came back a moment later, dropping the contents of their hands onto the couch. Settling back between Jon’s legs, Martin slid off their skirt and underwear. It was a small thing that meant the world, Jon able to be the most comfortable version of themself. The joy it brought him was unmatched, seeing Jon able to dress the way they never could before. It was a wonderful thing to see them unafraid, for once, of what the world might think as they got dressed in the morning._ _

__Martin shook his head, bringing his thoughts back to the present. He ran his hands along the soft insides of Jon’s thighs and bent to take them in his mouth. They gasped, hand instinctively covering their mouth. Martin was in no position to move it for them, so he settled for making them forget any inkling of modesty. Martin, momentarily distracted from Jon’s initial request, spent a long moment listening to the sounds he was able to draw out of them._ _

__Jon, however, was always one to focus more on the task at hand. “Martin, please,” they managed through a cut-off moan._ _

__“Yes, yes, patience is a virtue, and all that,” Martin muttered offhandedly as he reached for the bottle of lube he’d brought._ _

__“Not that I mind, clearly, but why on earth do you have that?” Jon asked as Martin popped the cap off._ _

__“Never hurts to be ready,” he said with a small smile._ _

__Jon let out a snort of laughter that was quickly replaced with a sharp gasp as Martin slid a finger inside them. Martin watched their face carefully, searching for any sign of pain or discomfort. It backfired almost immediately as their face melted into one of undisguised _feeling_ , and Martin had to dial back their attention. _ _

__“Ready for another?”_ _

__Jon nodded, and Martin could tell they were close to the threshold of speechlessness. “Please.”_ _

__Martin smiled at that. “You’re being so sweet tonight,” he said as he slowly pushed in another finger. He kissed their thigh as punctuation._ _

__“Am I usually- _oh_ \- that mean to you?” they countered, argument undercut by the crescendo of their breathing. _ _

__Martin laughed softly. “You can be a bit of a bastard sometimes, you know, but I do tend to ask for it.”_ _

__Jon laughed shortly at that, their hips moving forward as Martin curled his fingers._ _

__“Oh- can you- _Martin_ -”_ _

__“Tell me what you want, Jon,” Martin said, concentrating on the static between his words, the air in his vocal cords, feeling it tumble out in a rush of electricity._ _

__“You- always you- I want to feel you inside me and know you feel it too, how much I want this even if I’m ashamed sometimes, want you- and I’m never ashamed of that- I want you to know how much I love you, even when I can’t say it right.”_ _

__The statement had none of the usual elegance of those extracted by Jon’s practiced compulsion, but that didn’t matter. Martin wondered if this was how they felt when they did it to him, overwhelmed by the love and trust in the response._ _

__“Oh, Jon.” A breath. “I love you.” Martin carefully took his fingers out and pulled on the harness he’d brought in a practiced motion. He raised Jon’s hips to slide a pillow underneath, and positioned himself between their thighs. As slowly as he could, Martin pushed inside, leaning over Jon to kiss them softly. Their breathing quickly became ragged, and Martin stilled to give them a moment to adjust._ _

__“Look at you, you’re so beautiful like this. You take this so easily, so well.” He pressed a kiss to their forehead. “Do you want me to move?”_ _

__Jon nodded wordlessly, coherent thoughts seemingly lost for the moment. Martin tensed his core and began to work up a slow pace with his hips. Not for the first time, Martin wished they could feel Jon like this, the blissful closeness and heat. Though this was its own special kind of intimacy, he thought, exerting himself simply because it made Jon feel good, and wasn’t that all he could ever want?_ _

__“I- please-”Jon whispered, pulling Martin from his thoughts._ _

__“More?” Martin responded, finding he could understand without the precise words. They nodded, closed eyes fluttering open to lock onto Martin’s own. He smiled down at them as he picked up his pace, relishing in the high noises Jon let out as he hit against the deepest parts of them. Their sounds turned to a choked-off whine intercut with sharp breaths, and Martin leaned down to kiss them as he reached to bring them over the edge. Their eyes clenched shut, Martin feeling their body tremble beneath him. He slowed his movements to a stop, and waited until Jon’s eyes opened to speak._ _

__“Enough?” he asked. Jon nodded again, smiling weakly, and Martin pulled out and repositioned, discarding the harness beside him. He laid down next to Jon, curling around them protectively. “I love you,” he said, almost instinctively._ _

__Jon breathed in shakily. “I love you,” they whispered, words slowly coming back to them. “That was- I mean- I didn’t know you could- thank you,” they finally finished._ _

__Martin laughed softly. “Yeah?”_ _

__“That was- very good, and you never fail to amaze me in new ways,” Jon said, tone measured but not without affection, their usual eloquence somewhat restored._ _

__“Oh,” Martin squeaked, his brain shorting out at the unexpected praise. “I’m glad.” He pulled Jon closer to him, and they wrapped their arms around him in kind._ _

__The two of them laid there for a long moment. Jon broke the silence first. “Can I return the favor?”_ _

__Martin smiled, his face pressed into their shoulder. “That would be lovely.”_ _

__Jon sat up, climbing on top of Martin. They let their hands wander anywhere and everywhere, pushing up his shirt, pressing at the sensitive spots on his neck, ghosting over the bones of his hips. As worked up as he was, the light touches were torture, and he knew Jon knew it. Their mouth followed their hands, tracing a line down his neck._ _

__“Jon, Jon, please,” Martin said, words interrupted by a sharp intake of breath._ _

__“Yes, yes, all right,” Jon said, their voice low in Martin’s ear. He felt their hand slide over his underwear, letting his hips arch into the touch. He lifted up hips to let Jon slide his boxers off, and sighed as they pressed a kiss to his neck._ _

__Martin’s eyes fluttered closed, and he shuddered as Jon’s deft fingers spread him open, thumb brushing over his swollen clit._ _

__“You’re so beautiful-handsome- _perfect_ like this,” Jon whispered, the awe in their voice palpable. They slid one finger, then two, into Martin, the sudden stretch making him moan. _ _

__Martin opened his eyes. “Kiss me,” he said, the words coming out much more desperate than he’d intended._ _

__Jon’s smile could’ve lit up London. They bent to kiss him, sweet and intense all at once. They fucked him slowly with their fingers, curling inside of him. Martin couldn’t stop himself from letting out a soft cry against their mouth._ _

__“Another?” Jon said, littering kisses across Martin’s chest. Martin nodded shakily. Gently, they added a third finger, and Martin’s could think about nothing else. The only thing that mattered was Jon’s body against his, their fingers filling him so sweetly, their gaze trained on him with all the intensity of the Eye if it fed on love instead of fear. Martin was lost to the world again, this time floating on waves of warm connection instead of the cold sea air of the Lonely._ _

__“Please, Jon, more,” he almost begged, words far less steady than he’d intended. Jon nodded, pausing to find the lube Martin had discarded earlier. After a moment, they slid in a fourth finger, cool and slick. The stretch was almost painful, but any discomfort was washed away by the overwhelming fullness Martin felt. Jon moved their hand slightly, fingers flexing gently inside of him, pressing at every sensitive spot at once._ _

__“Do you want me to-” Jon faltered._ _

__They had never gotten quite this far before, not even before the Lonely. Not for Martin’s lack of interest—after the first time Jon had fingered him, Martin couldn’t help seeing their hands a little differently, admiring the long, slender fingers, the slight arch to their palm, noticing the gentle sound of their tapping against a desk, the acute flexing of their joints. In quieter moments, he’d let himself remember that feeling, imagining what it would feel like multiplied inside of him, the curl of their hand and the twisting motion of their wrist. What would that feel like, to be stretched open like that, to open his eyes and see Jon gazing at him, expression somewhere between fascination and adoration._ _

__But Martin had never asked. It had seemed like a step too far, too close and intimate. He didn’t know if that was something he could ask of Jon._ _

__After the past few months, however, Martin realized that fisting was fairly low on the list of strange and intense things that he could ask of them. “If you- if you’re okay with, um, fisting me, I would love that.”_ _

__“I- yes, I’m very okay with it, Martin. If you think the best thing you could ask for is to make me happy, I think the best thing I could do is make sure you know I feel the same way.”_ _

__“By fisting me? And they say romance is dead.”_ _

__Jon laughed, the sound burning in Martin’s chest. “I love you.”_ _

__“I love you,” Martin breathed, “will you-”_ _

__“If you’re ready,” Jon said, pulling their hand out slightly._ _

__Martin nodded. He felt their hand curl inwards, thumb sliding in as they sunk in past the first knuckle, then the second. They paused, watching Martin breathe deeply. “Still good?”_ _

__“Yes-” Martin gasped. “You can- please keep going.”_ _

__Jon leaned down to press a kiss to his lips, then his neck. They drew closer to him, and he felt burning heat everywhere their skin touched. Their hand pushed in past the ridge of their joints, fingers curling every so slightly to form a loose fist inside him. Any remaining thoughts flew out of Martin’s head, his world narrowing to how incredible it was to feel Jon’s whole hand inside him, the pressure against every sensitive part inside of him, how close they felt with their hand inside what felt like their core. It was strangely and wonderfully intimate, and Martin couldn’t last much longer. Even the slightest movement of their hand was an overwhelming pressure, reaching parts of him he hadn’t known were there. Martin tightened around Jon’s hand harder than he thought possible, finally coming onto their wrist._ _

__They kissed him again. “Let me know when you’re ready for me to pull out.”_ _

__Martin took a long, shuddering breath. “Okay. Slowly.”_ _

__Jon pulled their hand out impossibly slowly, each sensation feeling a thousand times more than before. Martin knew he was being undone by the overstimulation, and he couldn’t help moaning slightly when Jon’s hand left entirely. It was all too much, and he drowned in the pure feeling of it all, head falling limp onto the couch._ _

__His senses came back to him slowly. Martin felt Jon’s hands rest softly on his thighs, rubbing in slow, soothing circles. They kissed his cheek, and the couch under them shifted as they got up. Martin opened his eyes a moment later to see Jon coming back with a damp towel to clean him up. They smiled at him, a delicate and perfect thing._ _

__“Come back to me?” Jon said, passing Martin the towel._ _

__Martin took it gladly. “Thank you.” He wiped away the mess across his thighs. “That was- you were- thank you,” he said again. “What I mean is, that was very good, and I love you.”_ _

__Jon helped Martin get to his feet, pulling him close. “I’m glad. It was very good for me, too. I love you, you know.”_ _

__“I know,” Martin said. He kissed Jon, sinking into the feeling that they could stay like this forever._ _

__After a few minutes of reassembly, they both ended up in bed. Jon shifted closer to Martin, who opened his arms easily. “I love you.”_ _

__Jon's smile lit their eyes, igniting something deep in Martin he thought the Lonely had killed. They laid their hands over his. “I love you.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> normalize crying before, during, and after sex i’m assigning martin as a water sign  
> no social media but here’s [my chaotic jm playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4uSAieyXJhuZvBX0DegTnz?si=Rds-BM_DSqi-2S3_KsEuxQ)


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